


the world i locked out

by FixerRefutation



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I, M/M, Mastermind Saihara Shuichi, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, Secret Santa, cant tag, i have failed u, u wanted pregame or mm, why not both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 08:22:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17117828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FixerRefutation/pseuds/FixerRefutation
Summary: “I’m going to audition for Danganronpa!”“..Danga..n..ronp..a..?”





	the world i locked out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deathflavoredpringles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathflavoredpringles/gifts).



> Hello,,,,pringles_san,,  
> you're my ss! uwu
> 
> (context: none)
> 
> please enjoy! ~~or i'll cry ;; jfshk~~

June 19, 7:00 PM

 

_ Saihara lifted himself from the couch promptly, almost falling off as Kokichi, not meaning to waste power, fumbled clumsily with the remote that had almost fallen into the pile of junk called the floor. Strewn across the junk pile were plushies of random people Kokichi had never known before, bears of an unnatural color, DVDs, and mangas painstakingly thumbed through, little yellow sticky notes poking out of the pages. He awkwardly moves across on the couch as Saihara pulls out a laptop (pictures of bears and sleuths of one main TV show stuck onto the top of the poor thing, so filled that the name brand could hardly be identified anymore.) _

_ Kokichi watches from the couch, hesitant to step on those obviously cherished stuffed plushies, price tags numbering to the hundreds-which he didn’t really think he could actually  _ pay for _ \- but steps down anyway, socks-with a meticulously plain color of white- that reach up to his ankles are, as he considers, the thin protection from keeping his bare foot touch the cold wooden flooring. _

_ Soft, thin black hair bobs up and down as the boy, still dressed rather properly in a gakuran even though the two of them were out of school- no creases or hair astray from lounging (as much as possible, anyhow) on the couch- looks over to the furious tapping sounds as it increases in frequency before Saihara  _ bangs _ his head on the computer. “Aghhhhhhhhh…,” he groans, glaring at the computer as if it had done him some terrible wrong.  _

_ Kokichi opens his mouth, almost to speak. As if his voice was loud enough to be heard by the other’s anguished moans in the dining table area, he speaks, but it’s not even close to being loud enough. He can barely even hear himself, though he can still feel the vibration that emits from his chest to his throat, rising upwards. “S...saih..-”  _

_ Saihara stops dead for a moment, frozen like..some sort of statue, perhaps, but his leg still tapped slowly on the floor, and his hair was ruffled by the soft  _ buzz _ of the electrical fan.  _

_ Kokichi gingerly steps on the balls of his feet, stumbling over the mangas, the magazines with loud headlines that scream the latest trend; the one that shook the nation and held everyone’s attention in a vise grip.  _

 

_ “Saiha--” _

 

“AGHHHHHHHHHH.”  _ the aspiring detective flops ungracefully back on the chair, though his long limbs and nimble fingers make his every action seem soft, beautiful. He even hits the chair with a gentle  _ thump  _ that Kokichi associates with swanlike, to be able to look so pretty while flopping around like a dying fish. _

 

_ “Wha..t’s wrr..ong..?” _ __  
  


_ Saihara jolts up, as if awoken by some electrical shock. “Hey, Ouma,” he says casually. “Turn on the TV again, will you please?” He lifts those dull eyes to meet those vibrant purple ones. Kokichi flushes at the eye contact, and wordlessly complies, reaching for the remote he’d placed on the table next to Saihara’s own laptop. _

 

_ ‘-and you can get your very own li-’ _

 

_ “Ugh, ad. Skip.” _

 

_ Kokichi set the remote to x3 speed. _

 

_ “Ouma, wait. Please stop there.” _

 

_ “..” _

 

_ ‘..again, it’s…’ _

 

_ Saihara types in what the television is rattling off, focusing on the computer so intensely a part of Kokichi-a very small part, mind you- worried it might explode. All that pressure.. _

_ “Sa--iihara-kun-n? What’r-re you..?” Kokichi turns at the crackling noise of the old printer that hadn’t been used for.. months now, becoming ancient and repurposed into some kind of makeshift table. A paper, crinkled but still intact, slides out. Two of them, actually. Now four. Kokichi sees writing on the back. _

_ Shuichi steps carelessly over his own possessions, crushing the people’s faces under his foot as he basically dashes over to the creaking, old printer. He examines the papers with a barely contained excitement Kokichi had only ever seen him wear around when a new season of that famous show, that disgustingly famous show, came out. _

_ His chest puffed up and fell quickly, pink rising on his cheeks in an..almost unnerving cheerfulness as he sifts through the pages. He breathes something low under his breath, so quiet Kokichi can just barely hear him, and when he can, there’s hardly any legible words. _

 

_ “..itscominghhhahahahshaosoonhahahaican’twhahahwaihehehaiehi-it..” _

 

_..What’s coming soon? Kokichi wants to know. Kokichi wants to know what made Saihara, his dear friend, so happy, happy enough for him to be like  _ this _ so that he knew how to make Saihara happy as Saihara made him. _

 

_ So he voices the thought as well as he can. _

 

_ Saihara grins, eyes open wider than they usually were, alight with some kind of bloody passion that seared through his veins, an adrenaline injected into his bloodstream with the presence of those crinkled, white papers in his hands. “...ahh? Well..isn’t it obvious?” _ _  
_

_ He plops down next to Kokichi, slipping the papers into the boy’s hands. Kokichi reads, reads, flips, and suddenly his eyes widen, horror streaking through his system.  _

_ Saihara turns to him, tilting his body down to stare at Kokichi, sparkling eyes galore. “I’m going to audition for Danganronpa!” _ __  
  


_ “..Danga..n..ronp..a..?” _

 

_ - _

 

June 20, 3:15 PM

 

_ Nearly an hour early. Kokichi follows Saihara as always, to which the latter jokingly refers to as ‘a kind of baby duckling’, which has Kokichi shaking his head vigorously, one hand pulled up as if to defend himself as the other picks nervously at the bandage stuck hastily on his face, taken from the school nurse’s drawers a bit after school had ended and just in time to see Saihara, leaning against a wall, scrolling through his phone. _

_ “Ah, you’re here, Ouma-kun.” He smiles, perfectly composed, if not a bit shady, like a completely normal person. Soft eyes underneath long eyelashes, a smile, even though it was only marginally so, a quirk of the lips, he looked happy all the same. _

_ Kokichi smiles and almost replies before a few papers are gently pushed into his own chest. He takes them only to relieve the pressure that had been building up behind them and looks over the form. _

 

_ He looks up. “...This is-”  _

_  
_ _ Saihara smiles, and instead of a crazed smile, instead of a gentle smile, it’s somewhere between fondness and desperation. If Kokichi was smarter, he’d understand  _ why. _ Why? _

_ The wannabe detective tilts his head to the side and moves to leave. “You don’t…  _ have _ to if you don’t want to, but..”  _ __  
  


_ “I expect you to follow me like you always do, Kokichi.” _

 

_ - _

_  
_ June 20, 5:00 PM

 

_ The auditions- basically a bunch of people, young and old, lining up to die. Together, most alone, and there’s Kokichi, Saihara, standing a few people away from the other as the boy chats animatedly with a blonde girl who might’ve looked friendly her lips were pulling into a frown and her eyebrows weren’t drawn together in open disinterest, playing with her phone. _

_ “Hello.” A formal voice with a tinge; just a slight note in a voice that indicated the person was a foreigner. Something he hears while she’s speaking to someone. Him? _

 

_ Him? _

 

_ “You, what’re you here for?” She spoke as if the two of them were in a prison, a jail cell, trapped for reasons beyond their own understanding. He spares a glance at her hair. Despite the dark, almost chocolatey brown of her skin she was pulling at, her hair is a glaringly noticeable icy white. There’s an almost natural blush painted on her cheeks, and her eyes are startlingly blue. _

_ “I’m a foreigner. Get over it.” Despite her pretty looks, blushed cheeks and all, her voice is completely monotone, lacking in anything remotely human. She repeats herself. “What’re you in for?” He jumps, fiddles with his fingers before he replies. “I’m..w-with a...f..friend. Y-you?” _

 

_ She nods thoughtfully. “Dying together, right? Trial three.” _ __  
__  


_ “..yeah..” _

 

_ “I’m Angie Yonaga.”  _

__  
_ “What?” _ __  


_ “Angie. Yonaga. Not that hard of a name, honestly.” _

_ “I-I know! I’m er-, I’m Kokichi..um, ou-ouma. Nice to..nice to meet you!” _

_  
_ _ She smiles, though her grin is… _

 

__ “You shouldn’t be here, right? You don’t like any of this, right?”  
_  
_ __ He stops. She gives him a little shove out of line. “You should go. There’s no place for you here, with us..” She waves a hand around, lips curling into a little bitter sneer. “You’re too human.”

 

_ “Go. You have a life ahead of you.” _

 

_ - _

_ A..life? _

_ - _

June 20, 6:43 PM

 

_ “I don’t want to be-” Childish sobs escape his unwilling mouth, but he doesn’t stop, can’t stop. He’s always been a little bit- well, more than just  _ a little bit of _ a crybaby, even after Saihara came into his life. No one stops the cries,  a human just like the rest of them, even as they shift from choking sobs to heartbreaking ones, the kinds he’d hear in movies, but so much more  _ genuine _ , so much more feeling. _

 

_ “Please-e..let me..i wanna see..saii-iihar-a..again..” _

 

_ He didn’t tell Kokichi. He didn’t say anything to Kokichi. He didn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t… Kokichi didn’t want to die, but. Losing Shuichi was.. Was like a, horrible, horrible nightmare where he died, over and over again, blood gleaming on the concrete as if it were fresh paint from a spray can.  _

_ Losing Shuichi was the equivalent to being dead. Miss Yonaga was wrong; he couldn’t leave. He’d centered his life around one person, because that person was the only one who willingly took care of him. Losing him would be hell. _

_...And, well, Shuichi was Kokichi’s life. And Kokichi cared for Shuichi just as much as he cared for his own life..if that did make sense. He trusted Shuichi. _

_ He didn’t...want to leave Shuichi. So, he had to try his absolute hardest, and try as best as he could on this audition! Even if it cost him everything, he didn’t mind. He just wanted...to stay by his side. _

 

_ - _

_ ‘Thank you for your time. Please make your way to the exit.’ _

_ - _

June 21, 8:30 AM

 

_ Saihara had been so calm, today, other than how Kokichi felt. The danganronpa-obsessed boy seemed content, almost, stroking his phone case- now proudly emblazoned with the Team Danganronpa symbol- with care. “.. so... How’d I do..?”  _

_ Saihara brought the boy into a one-armed embrace, eyes locked on the glowing screen as he flicked through profiles of random students. A girl with chocolate brown skin. A girl with blond hair and a little empty smile on her features. A boy, soft, thin hair, pretty purple eyes cast down. “You did great, Kokichi.” _

_  
_ _ “They’ll be watching us now.” _

 

_ - _

_ “AA--!” _

_ - _ __  
  


_ June 21, 3:10 AM _

 

It’s dark.

 

Cramped, cold, and dark. In all his years, he’d hadn’t felt this crushed in a while. A boy, dressed in white, slides down in a cold, crummy, old thing of a locker, and tried to remember the person he was.

  
  
  
  
  


A boy in striped clothing is his savior,

 

_ “...you’re alone, Kokichi..and you always will be.” _

 

And part of the burden he unwillingly carries for the rest of them.

  
  
  


…

 

…

 

**Mastermind:** how’s my dear Shuichi?

**Mastermind2:** Fuck you.

**Author's Note:**

> ...now that i think about it, "flopping around like a dying fish" is,,
> 
>  
> 
>  _graceful_  
>  kdhfga NO IM KIDDING PLEASE DONT KILL ME
> 
> ,,hey, so
> 
> i left three things in here: the date, the names, and the lies. If possible, please tell me the connection.


End file.
